


i think i love--you are horrible

by ghostwit



Category: One Piece
Genre: Canon Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Established Relationship, I'd say "attempt at humor" but like. it's not funny unless you're me sorry ., Kinda. subconscious. The way you'd expect for these two., M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Not like. a defined one but established for sure!, in that it doesn't diverge anywhere or anythi. non-specified timeline.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwit/pseuds/ghostwit
Summary: Crocodile's fingers reach up to find the side of his nose, stroking tiredly up the ridge of cartilage and come away wet."What the fuck," he whispers.
Relationships: Crocodile/Donquixote Doflamingo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	i think i love--you are horrible

**Author's Note:**

> TW for a joke right at the end with a super tiny implication of drug use at the end between mostly consenting parties. um.

Crocodile's fingers reach up to find the side of his nose, stroking tiredly up the ridge of cartilage and come away wet.

"What the fuck," he whispers. 

Daz bristles from where he stands, tight cords of muscle spiking into the trim edge of a blade, knuckles rapping sharp against the paneling of the door and pointedly averting his gaze from the porthole. 

“I’m here.” he’s barking, raspy and irritable and it’s in close enough to an approximation of Crocodile’s usual tone that Daz unknits his shoulders a little, lets the blade sink back into his skin to reform his forearm. 

“Alright, boss,” Daz says.

Crocodile's brow furrows, not going quite so far as to pace the length of his quarters, but shuffling a little in place, twitching gangly fingers in irritation at the chasm opening slowly, surely in his chest. His mind sets to work, combing methodically for the source of this sudden, inexcusable weakness. 

He'd spent the last two weeks on Dressrosan shores, having departed with little more than a wave and a roll of the eyes to the crooning bird perched along the docks just the other night. He definitely didn't miss the bastard, far from it, if he had been any less controlled of a man, he'd have been barking laughter all the way down the pier and straight on to Sabaody, grateful to be free of the gaudy man and his insistent, meticulous needlework. 

* * *

Crocodile, sprawled sweaty and exhausted in the sheltering belly of the absolutely massive four-poster that occupies a good portion of the current king’s room in the castle of Dressrosa, blinking blearily and looking so positively  _ messy _ that it sends an exhilarated thrill up the length of Doflamingo's spine, buzzing soft in the chasing of the white-hot of orgasm. He crawls up the length of the bed, trekking over smooth planes of muscle and slicked skin with knee and elbow and mouth until he can press a full kiss to the first knob of Crocodile's spine. He's too fucked out to respond properly, treading the edge of sleep and slipping fast, but he still manages to turn away with a hoarse grunt, curling in on himself just a little as he does. 

"Mmm,  _ wani _ ," Doflamingo hums against his earlobe, suckling against the hoop of metal hanging there; Crocodile's face half-contorts into a cringe with the combined assault on his senses managing to cut through the haze of fatigue. 

"My liza~rd," he croons, smug, hands playing gentle over each dip in Crocodile's ribs, tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen and skirting along the sweaty, mussed trail of coarse hair leading up from the apex of his thighs in passive circles. More kisses along the shoulder turned towards Doflamingo, happy mumblings and dopey smiles. The usually intolerable sin of unmitigated affection goes unchecked as the two slip into the reprieve of sleep.

* * *

Doflamingo, pinned and strung like a butterfly in a glass cage, speared through and stock-still with his feet held shoulder width apart and body crooked from where he sits on the desk. Crocodile’s curled over him, standing with hand settled heavy on his hip and hook looped around his throat, just barely tracing pink lines up his jugular--he's too measured, just a degree too good at the control game when Doflamingo passes the torch, and the younger relishes in the non-threat and all the meanings tucked in its nooks and crannies. 

He blinks up at him, half-lidded eyes crimped and grin sleazy and fond, somewhere on the smaller side for the man. He grinds back lazily, trembling arms folded behind his back. 

"You're being unusually cooperative," hums Crocodile, biting back a grin when he feels a clench at the praise. As much as he complains of the younger's coital habits, it's a little odd to have such a companionable silence stretching between them like this. He presses in, hard and long until Doflamingo’s eyelids flutter and his chin draws in a bit, a quiet, slow-winding pleasure pulling his muscle to his core to make him shrink.

Doflamingo's a little too quiet, a little too earnest, without any of that obscene tongue wagging, when he replies, "I like watching you." 

"Oh?" Crocodile sneers, digging nails into Doflamingo's hip in response to the liquid adoration pooling in his eyes, "Perhaps you'd like to…" He pulls away with a nasty squelch that has him sneering, hand lifting back to trace his own thigh and separate their bodies completely. Doflamingo whines instinctually before letting his pout bleed into a grin.

"You're a real bastard," he keens, hooking his legs around Crocodile's waist and tilting that manic smile away to bare his throat, "and after I've been so  _ unusually cooperative _ tonight." He bats his lashes, holds himself taut so his bare abdomen shivers in a way that speaks deliciously of loosely trussed restraint. 

Crocodile kisses the length of skin bared before him just to feel his hammering pulse beneath his lips, the wrong move, maybe, but the rush the meek little gesture sends careening through his system makes him, if only for a moment, reckless. He amends it with a bite to the jugular, hard enough to make Doflamingo gasp under him, just the edge of frantic, a purple mark blooming beneath the touch of his teeth. 

* * *

(Or, maybe, Dressrosa's skies glittering above and her sunflowers swaying to the country's corrupt heartbeat below. Doflamingo surprising him into begrudging laughter with that crystal wit of his, sweeping the sound off his tongue with a kiss and the lacing of their fingers; A motion he had thought Crocodile wouldn't notice. Crocodile's face contorts into a disgusted grimace at the thought of it. His pulse ratchets, and he lets loose a wheeze.)

* * *

_ Pururururu. Ker-chak.  _ "Miss me already, baby?" Doflamingo purrs, contorting the transponder snail's face into that ugly grin of his. Miserable creature. Crocodile grimaces, half reflex, half unfettered displeasure. 

“Did you drug me or something?” Crocodile mutters, mostly to himself. It would certainly make more sense than any of his other musings over the past couple of weeks. The snail laughs, Doflamingo picking through the ambient rush of waves and wind to decipher Crocodile’s murmurings, but it’s tinny and far-off sounding--Crocodile can see it in his mind’s eye, the way Doflamingo’s head tilts back and his chin bobs, pulling back from the receiver to let loose a hyena’s cackle. He suppresses a shiver at the thought, frown deepening with the way his fingers throb to reach and  _ touch _ . 

“You know we only do that if I’m there to take advantage of it.” Crocodile snorts, rolls his eyes. There’s an expectant pause on the other end of the line, strange when the bird is usually so content to chatter, and, oh, yes, he’d called first this time, hadn’t he? 

“Can you,” he clucks his tongue, pauses to rattle a cigar free of its case and light it, something that makes Doflamingo hum lowly on the other end, familiar with the ritual, “get Vergo to send my peo--” 

“Did you just want to have phone sex?” The older can hear the way the question careens into a delighted giggle at the end, a seesaw lilt to it. He worries for the transponder snail’s health, the way its smile seems to wrap around its head, maybe even looping once or twice, “Because, I mean! If you d--” 

Crocodile blinks twice before setting the receiver down. Seems things are resolved. 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stop thinking about the phrase "Crocodile sub drop" and laughing super hard sjudhkfugysdkyfg so . yeah. here . I didn't wanna write weird porn for a gag so I just made it about feeeeelings. I struggled very much to resolve this in a way that felt in-character so sorry if the ending is sloppy. I'm pretty indifferent about this piece, thought I'd post it to see if anyone else might get a kick out of it.
> 
> Thank you a lot for taking the time to read, please feel free to leave a comment of any length or with any substance. Always happy to see them! 
> 
> hazeism.tumblr.com


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